Red's not Dead

It used to be said that France was the largest Communist country in the Western world. Although post-war Presidents of France have almost exclusively been from right-wing parties, whole swathes of the country have long been run by communist groups, notably in coastal cities and in a red line of towns around Paris. At the height of this position of power and influence, the French Communist party (PCF) decided to build a prestigious new headquarters building, choosing the famous Brazilian modernist and party sympathiser Oscar Niemeyer as chief architect. Niemeyer, who was living in exile in France at the time, worked benevolently on the project.

The building is situated on the otherwise non-descript Place du Colonel Fabien. This place, which in reality is little more than a large roundabout, was previously known as the Place du Combat, and was named after the organized animal fights that used to take place here. It was renamed after the second world war in honour, rather aptly, of a communist militant and resistant who was killed in 1944.

The building is set back from the road, a design decision that Niemeyer took for two reasons. Firstly he wanted to hide a rather unattractive structure situated in a plot behind, and secondly for reasons of secrecy and security. It is almost impossible to see the somewhat sunken entrance from the street, and this coupled with the reflective glass windows of the façade makes it very difficult for observers to see who is entering or who is inside the building. This may seem excessive today, but this is a building that has undoubtedly been regularly under surveillance from secretive governmental organisations.

Beyond these aspects, this is in many ways a typical Niemeyer structure. Modernist in form, with its concrete body raised up on a series of pilotis, it manages to escape the block-like rigidity of other similar structures due to Niemeyer’s insistence on curves. Originally designed in 1965, the building was not fully completed and inaugurated until 1980, and it is perhaps this which has given it a slightly timeless feel. It is undoubtedly elegant from the exterior, but it is the interior which is truly worth seeing. The white dome pushing through the garden courtyard is a clue, but few would imagine the fascinating ‘space-age’ central committee auditorium that lays beneath. Visits are organised in September during the ‘journees de la patrimoine’, but only very exceptionally at other times of the year.

The interior of the Espace Niemeyer (photo taken from www.orserie.fr)

With changing political situations, the Communist party influence has waned in France, and this building has become something of a heavy weight for the party. Too expensive to run, it is nevertheless much in demand (fashion shoots, conferences etc), but how could the party profit from this without renouncing on their fundamental principles? The solution has been to rename the building the ‘Espace Niemeyer’ and to rent out two of the floors to other organisations, one of which is a company producing animation films. This is not as improbable as it sounds as there is something rather graphic and cinematographic about the whole structure. For my son, who only sees the white dome, it is the ‘Tellytubby house’, but who knows where the producers of that programme got their inspiration. Could that also be a clue as to the political sympathies of Tinky-Winky and friends?

Rough Philanthropy

Walking along the Rue Jeanne d'Arc in the 13th arrondissement it would be easy to pass by a genuine piece of social history without noticing anything exceptional. At number 45, directly opposite the quaint and attractive houses of the Villa Auguste Blanqui, stands the first social housing project built in the city, a collection of small apartments which were paid for by a man of fortune to house the unfortunate.

A plaque on the front of the building shows that it was run by an organisation called the Societé Philanthropique (who still manage the building today), and the city of Paris have helpfully put a sign in the street outside giving an outline of the story, but what is most striking about the structure is the rough brickwork of the facade. This is social housing at its most basic, clean and functional accommodation, but devoid of any decorative features that may have encouraged the poor to stay a little too long.

It was a rich banker named Michel Heine who paid for this construction through his Fondation Heine charity. He donated 600,000 Francs to the Societé Philanthropique and asked them to build a home for the 'deserving poor'. This was very much the philosophy of the Societé Philanthropique who believed (and apparently still believe) in helping the poor to help themselves, funding projects that help people get through difficult moments, to rebuild lives, or simply where the old could see out the rest of their days in dignity.

Michel Heine was an interesting man, somebody who spent many years in the USA and married into the Richelieu dynasty (he was eventually buried in the family tomb). He knew and gave financial support to Sarah Bernhardt, calling her his 'cochon doré' (golden pig!). Heine's reaction to the building he financed is not documented, but it is possible that it was severe enough to ensure that no such buildings were put up again. Later constructions managed by the Societé Philanthropique all contained decorative elements, and it is suspected that the rich benefactors who paid for them did not want to be associated with such basic, functional structures. After all, it was their names which were often featured at the entrance.

For more details on this building, see my post on Bricks in Paris.

City of Lights, Camera, Action

I'm always interested to hear how other people see Paris, so I was very happy to be contacted recently by the publishers of a new book on the city. For some people Paris is defined by its architecture whilst for others it is written out in the pages of a book, but for writer Michael Schurmann, the city is one large film set. So great is his passion that he has dedicated much of his recent life to the creation of a series of 'movie walks' which take the visitor through circuits of some of the key film locations in the city. Interested by his passion and his unusual perspective of the city, I was fortunate this week to chat with him and get a personal tour of his Montmartre neighbourhood.

Originally from Germany, Schurmann spent several years working in London, notably with the BBC World Service before a company takeover eventually brought him to Paris. He worked for several years at Eurosport as a commentator, mostly for American sports, but today divides his time between writing and freelance translation. Always a film buff, his passion grew as he got to know the city better, and today he lives on the almost permanant film set which the Montmartre hill has become. As soon as we leave his front door he is immediately able to point out the locations of two films and the previous apartment of one of France's top directors.

The staircase leading down to the Au Soleil de la Butte café, both featured in the 1995 remake of Sabrina.

Our walk takes us through some of the more well known sites such as those used in Le Fabuleux Destin d'Amélie Poulain, but there are many surprises en route as well. Schurmann is meticulous in his research, sometimes spending hours in front of his television, pausing films at key moments and studying a scene in minute detail. He then walks around the approximate area of the shoot until he finds the eureka moment of the exact location and the precise camera angle. In this way he believes that he has made discoveries that are not documented elsewhere, notably with the film An American in Paris (the scene location is pictured at the top of this post). As he writes in the book,

"All the books on the subject say that the entire movie was shot on a Hollywood sound stage, where the original settings were more or less faithfully re-created, but if you compare the view you're seeing (here at the top of the staircase) with the film's final tableau, the similarities seem too striking to believe that we're merely seeing a recreation in the film"

A key location in 1998's Ronin.

As we walk we chat, and I point out to Schurmann that creating a successful walk is a little like producing a successful film; it needs to have a good beginning and end, and not to lose people in the bits between. He agrees, but points out that by following a movie walk in Paris people are unlikely to ever get bored or find their attention drifting. For American audiences, Paris is always used for a reason, and when Paris is chosen as a location it becomes one of the biggest stars in the film. To use it against type and send audiences to some non-descript corner of the 15th arrondissement for example would be like using Brad Pitt in a film and only giving him a walk on part. Why go through the trouble and expense of using this star if you don't then give audiences what they want? For this reason, almost all the locations described in the book are picturesque and often feature key touristic sites.

A case of life imitating art. The epicier featured in Le Fabuleux Destin d'Amélie Poulain was rendered 'more authentic' for the film, but the store owner has kept it in exactly the same condition since.

I ask Schurmann if there is there any film though that has taken the risk to use the city against type, and he thinks hard. The answer he gives is also his favourite film set in the city; The Bourne Identity. He calls it 'an andidote to the saccharine that's an occupational hazard for people who watch too many movies about Paris'. This is not Roger Moore fighting Grace Jones on the Eiffel Tower, but Matt Damon hiding out in a no star hotel in a forgotten corner of Belleville. All of the locations used are logical and realistic and as Schuermann says, 'give you a real feel for the city'. It is featured in no less than seven of the ten walks in the book.

Schurmann is not a frustrated director or screenwriter, but just somebody with a genuine passion for film. I'm even surprised to learn that he would not particularly be interested in working as a location hunter. 'Can you imagine how difficult that job would be in reality?' he asks. 'Sure Paris is a dream city for making films, but how do you find locations that haven't already been used twenty times before? You need to incorporate recognisable sites, yet find angles that are completely new'.

Perhaps Paris will one day become the faded star, the actress who appeared in too many films and who began to bore the audience. Schurmann thinks this unlikely given the fact that the city authorities are so helpful to film makers and because the city itself is just so adaptable. As we walk along the top of Rue Lepic, my guide explains that this street was used at the beginning of La Vie en Rose (Piaf). 'It's so easy to make this street represent any era' he explains. 'For this film they just had to put up a few old posters, put the extras in costume and find a horse, and it is immediately the beginning of the 20th century'. However, he does have many examples of films that were supposedly set in Paris but in reality were filmed in other, cheaper cities, with Budapest being a particularly popular alternative.

We finish the walk and I thank Schurmann for showing me sites I wasn't familar with. I am not especially passionate about the cinema myself, but I find the book nevertheless to be an informative and entertaining read. Featuring over 120 films, it gives regular historical and cultural asides, and is much like going on a walk with the man himself. The tone is light-hearted and amusing, and the book always gives readers opportunities to dip in and out and organise the walks in their own manner. Finally, as Schurmann points out, 'even if you don't like the cinema and don't know the movies, you're still going to see some great parts of the city!'

Paris Movie Walks by Michael Schurrman is available from Amazon in the US, and will be published in the UK in August.

All Paris is his Stage

If you have taken a Metro or walked the streets in Paris recently you may well have seen this poster splashed across a wall or window. It shows a man in various 'roles', and says simply 'this man is an actor. He wants to act - test him'. We are inclined to see such campaigns today as being teasers, something that catches our attention then leads us disappointingly towards another banal product to consume. In this case though, this advert is absolutely genuine. This really is an underworked actor who is desperate to land a first role in cinema or television.

Fabrice Yahyaoui, like thousands of others before him, has studied at some of the top stage schools in the city, but he has now found that he cannot get the big break. He performs occassionally in the theatre, but cannot find an agent, and without an agent, he can't get into any castings. After sending his book across the city and getting no replies, he decided to find another way to get noticed. He may not find a role through this technique, and indeed he may not even be a good actor, but he has found a certain amount of fame and says that he is now even recognised in the Metro!

http://www.myspace.com/fabriceyahyaoui

Je Ne Suis Pas Un Artiste

The sun beats down hard on this dusty corner of Paris on this Sunday in May. For the passer-by, the scene in front of them here on Rue Ramponeau is a strange one. The yard is a wasteland, a collection of piles of rocks and pallets, and here and there patches of green forcing their way through the dry earth. On either side, monumental walls, covered with large, polychrome sprayed murals. To the rear, barely perceptible glass walls. This is La Forge de Belleville, a site that has been the scene of much controversy and debate recently.

Previously a key factory dating from 1912, it had been earmarked in 1991 for transformation into a small shopping centre before a group of artists decided to squat the building and eventually force the city council into a rethink. The artists were given permission to stay, this time as legal rent paying residents, on a rolling contract. The city of Paris was still the owner of the land, and paid for regular improvements to the buildings on site, and could still decide who or what could be installed here once the contract came to an end. As 2008 drew to a close and with the end of the contract nearing, the city decided to ask interested parties to bid for the new contract.

The group currently on site, known as la Forge de Belleville, strongly linked to the original artists who claim to have saved the buildings from demolition, was one of the bidders, but eventually lost out to a rival group of artists known as TRACES. This second association proposed to open the centre up to local residents, and to run regular events with community groups, something la Forge de Belleville had rarely involved itself in. Unhappy at losing the contract, la Forge de Belleville began a media campaign, bringing much of the debate down to one question; what is the role of an artist?

According to the Paris council, the artists on site had become more and more isolated, and little was clear in the way the association was being run. It was tempting therefore to make a clean change and plump for a new team, with artists who would be happy to run projects and integrate themselves in the surrounding community. A false debate for la Forge de Belleville, who believe that artists should be free to work how they please so long as they are paying rent.

The latest information is that they will finally be allowed to stay, but the debate continues. If a group of artists rents a property from the council at comparitively low rates, should they be encouraged, or even pushed towards social actions that may improve their local environment, especially in one judged to be difficult, as is the case here? Or, is the role of an artist simply to create and not be a social worker?